Mandalore the Prosperous stood on one of the rebuilt towers, watching the sun set on Centrallis.

Neither of his bodyguards said anything. Holt stayed quiet out of fear of insulting a man whom he dearly respected, but he paced back and forth out of anxiety, his attention swinging between his charge and the city skyline. In minutes, he had catalogued every open window from which a sniper could feasibly fire.

Clyzer on the other hand hoped something might happen to his father. His bright orange armor certainly made him a target now, but he truly had no idea how bad things would get once he was solely in charge.

Mandalore the Prosperous wondered if his son would ever truly know what it meant to be a leader, but he did not wonder if the young man would ever be Mandalore.

The answer was no.

"Sir, with due respect to you and your kin, wishing only to help extend your reign, I am starting to think-"

"I know, it's dangerous. I will only be a moment longer."

Holt immediately went back to pacing. Clyzer moved up to his father's side.

"Is there something interesting out there?"

"One thing of note, but nothing surprising," replied Mandalore, watching Boot walk off toward the Blood Battalion's command post.

Boot replaced his helmet and walked out of the alleyway with his rifle in his hand and the duffel back stuffed uncomfortably down his jumpsuit.

It didn't seem like a traditional Mandalorian skill, but he was quite proud of himself for managing to pack his armor and weapons into a single bag, small enough to allow him to slip out of the compound, unnoticed.

The Blood Battalion had a much larger base outside of the city, but their Davn headquarters were centered on an old park.

The expansive but bare patch of grass had a few benches and ponds scattered about, all sitting on soil that had been shipped from offworld. It was supposedly a gift from the mine owners to their workers, but it just so happened that the only real estate built next to the city's only scenic view was all inhabited by the owners themselves.

It didn't matter, though. The Blood Battalion claimed that they needed an expansive area to house all their troops and arms, which was in the best interest of the rich businessmen trying to keep order.

However, anyone with a half-functioning brain could have told you the real reason. It was the park's main attraction, the massive red crystal that jutted from the ground in its center.

Boot strolled directly past the checkpoint at the edge of the grounds, no one daring to stop him until he had walked past the sea of blue permacrete bunkhouses and up to the doors of the durasteel central structure.

"Freeze," called a Blood Battalion trooper. Boot was surprised at first, but quickly noticed the three black stripes at the top left of his breastplate. The building was important.

"I am…" he drew himself up as tall as he could. "I am here for the Huntress."

Instantly, twenty blasters were drawn and focused in his direction.

"I have a meeting. I have a meeting."

The blasters fell, but the trooper in front of him remained suspicious. "I heard a Mandalorian was coming. The brass set aside a conference room on the third floor. It should be right in front of you, when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks."

Boot let those two words roll around in his mind. Conference room? He had been to war meetings before, strategy sessions, negotiations and even peace agreements, but meeting in a conference room just made the whole situation sound so mundane.

Just as the trooper said, the room was directly ahead of the elevator. What he hadn't stated was that there would be twelve Blood Battalion Infiltrators standing at the doorway, rather than the two quadrons of troopers who normally guarded the Huntress. They had upgraded security.

Dark violet markings covered their crimson armor, which had been carefully sanded down until the crystal was smooth rather than jaded. The material remained cloudy, but just clear enough that one could see the thin layer of Beskar seated behind each plate. Every infiltrator was different and some said that they all had tattoos that matched the markings of their armor, insignias of individual battles, wars and conquests.

The Mandalorian smiled. He smiled every time he saw them. They gave him hope that the Blood Battalion could fight worth a damn.

No one else gave him any trouble. He entered and couldn't see anyone else in the room. A long conference table took up most of the space, ornate glass and wood covered in snack wrappers and deli trays.

He walked to the other side of the room, where the wall was completely taken up by glass, allowing him to stare out across Davn and watch the incoming and outgoing ships pass through the grey sky.

A door slid open behind him. Boot turned to greet the Huntress, who no longer wore her hat and wasn't nervously carrying her pistol. In fact, she wasn't wearing her regular holsters at all. To a layman, it might have even looked like she was unarmed, but Boot was no layman.

"I sincerely apologize for the state of this place," she said, seeming genuine. "Rich people never clean up after themselves."

"The mine owners?"

She sighed. "They are the last people I ever want to talk about. Don't mention them, again."

"Understood."

She looked at him and smiled. "You can take orders. You are a soldier through and through."

"I hope so."

She sat down and grabbed a piece of meat off of one of the trays. "Are you hungry?"

Boot sat down, but didn't answer.

"Right, that would require an actual mouth. You Mandalorians don't ever get hungry. You're just suits of armor who live to fight," she said, sarcastically. "That's the mythos, right?"

Once again, Boot didn't answer.

"You contacted me because you can take care of my Jedi problem."

"Yes, I can."

"Good." Her face seemed to turn somber. "I need it done quietly, with as few witnesses as possible."

Boot couldn't help but reel back in surprise. "Why?"

"Because they are dangerous!" she cried out, pounding her fist on the table before suddenly collecting herself. "Look, I just need this done fast and quiet. Can you do that or not, Mando?"

He took a moment to think. He was fine with fast, but he couldn't possibly make this quiet. Taking this job was supposed to be the glorious triumph that put him in the good graces of the Blood Battalion and cemented his place as the future Mandalore.

"Mando?'

"Yes, I heard you."

"Then answer."

Boot thought for only a moment longer. "Ok, fast and quiet."

The Huntress sighed. "Good. You people are supposedly the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Get to work."

She phrased the comment as a patronizing insult, but all she did was confirm Boot's suspicion.

He walked out the door knowing two things that the Huntress desperately wanted to hide. One was that after years of rumors and false flags she was not expecting to meet a real Jedi ever again. The second was that if that day ever came and she met a real Jedi face to face, she had absolutely no idea what she would do.